


Why Go On? (There is Always Someone Who Needs You)

by aceofsparrows



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, davey and les brotherly love :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-19 20:04:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18977443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofsparrows/pseuds/aceofsparrows
Summary: Post-rally, Davey worries it's all fallen apart because of him. What did he do wrong? Why has Jack betrayed them? Les provides a very necessary pep talk and some brotherly cuddles-- because if all else fails, they will still have each other.





	Why Go On? (There is Always Someone Who Needs You)

**Author's Note:**

> Hullo!   
> Two posts in one day? Like that's ever happening again... lol I love three day weekends :)   
> This is just a little one-shot that I wrote when all my friends were busy with other things and I was feeling angsty lol   
> I love writing Davey and Les' sibling relationship, and also Les giving people (mostly Davey) pep talks. 
> 
> Enjoy!

After the rally I practically run home, letting my long legs carry me through the dark streets I know so well. I don’t go in through the front door, instead turning into the alley between our building and the building next to it, pulling down the fire escape’s ladder and climbing to our apartment’s small allotment of the snaking metalwork. I sit, legs dangling over the edge, catching my breath and taking in the darkness and the first few stars. 

Despite the widespread use of electricity now in the city, our poorer part of Manhattan is still mostly kerosene-lit, and at this time of night a thousand small flames dance and glow in windows as far as I can see. It used to be comforting, I suppose, being able to gaze down at all those lives lit up for one to see. But now all I feel is an empty, lonely darkness, looking out at a city that has no place for me. A thousand tiny worlds in which I don’t belong. 

My mind is still reeling from the rally. The rally—  _ my _ brilliant idea— gone so terribly, horribly wrong. There is no way Brooklyn will back us now, no way we’ll be able to finish the strike without Jack. 

Jack. What is going on with him? First he disappears after the riot (understandable, with Crutchie’s arrest and all, but still), threatening to run off to Santa Fe without so much as a goodbye. And now this: missing for a whole day after he was sent to tell Pulitzer about the rally, telling all of the newsies of New York that they’re struggle was fruitless when they’d only just managed to raise their hope? Sure, I’ve only known him for three, four days, but that Jack Kelly back there was sure as hell not the Jack Kelly I know. 

Then again... what  _ do _ I know? Thinking back, I’ve never really had friends. All the boys at school I’ve tried to connect with have left me for someone better, or smarter, or richer, or more fun, or just plain  _ more normal _ . Every time I have been left all alone, heart raw and bleeding, scars from the last wounds barely even healed. Why do I keep giving myself to people if they’re just going to throw me by the wayside when they don’t need me anymore? 

I have Sarah, I suppose, but she is different. She’s my twin sister, and although I love her, she doesn’t need me anymore like she used to. She is becoming her own woman, even at sixteen, and soon she will be gone. Even Les doesn’t need me anymore. Every morning when we meet the newsies at the circulation gate it’s like I vanish, as he runs off to talk and play with boys who won’t make him hold their hand when they cross the street because they’re scared he’ll get run over by a stray automobile or carriage, or remind him to take a bath every week. He listens to me less and less, and suddenly I find myself talking to air. 

I  _ know _ my parents don’t care. They look at me and they see a young man who is scared of the world, who is too book-smart for his own good and will never have a good job or a wife because he wants to follow a passion, not a respectable craft. They see a young man who will not be their problem in three-year’s time, when he turns twenty-one and they can force him out into the world to fend for himself, ready or not. 

So why did I think Jack would be any different? Maybe it was in the way he looked out for me and Les that first day when we had no idea what we were doing. Maybe it was his smile, easy and charming and comfortable. I suppose it lulled me into a false security until I was swept away in a deadly current of excitement. That is true, when you look at the last few days plainly.  _ I _ was the one who said the word “strike” first.  _ I _ was the one who suggested a union.  _ I _ fuelled the flames, and I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that they’ve burned down my house. 

It all lies in ashes now, and it’s all my fault. I look down at the dark alley below me, so far below. Our apartment is near the top, and all that I can see is the faint ghosts of laundry lines criss-crossing below from window to window. There is a particularly dark patch over to the side where the are no laundry lines. I wonder for a fleeting moment how far down it is, how many seconds it would take to land. They say when people fall from great heights that it’s not the landing that kills them, but the terror of the fall that stops their heart before they even hit the ground. I’ve always wondered if it was true. 

I hear a tap on the windowpane behind me. I turn and see Les, his arm out of its sling, looking at me with worry in his eyes. I suppose one of the boys walked him home after the rally; I had completely forgot he was even there. Shows what a terrible older brother I am I suppose. He holds out a hand as if to ask whether he can come outside and I shake my head; I don’t need him right now. But he lifts up the window anyway, scrambling over the sill and settling down next to me, short little legs dangling beside mine. 

“Are you okay?” He asks in a small voice after a few minutes. I look down at him. He’s leaning on the railing, staring down at his feet as he absently swings them to and fro. 

I sigh. “Yeah, buddy. I’m okay.” He looks up at me, and we stare at each other for a moment before he frowns, looking back down at his feet.

“That’s a lie.” 

I scoff. “Is it now?” 

He nods. “It is. You’re sad, I know you are. You think it’s all your fault. You think we failed.” I stare at him. 

“I-“ I start, but decide it’s not worth arguing. For all his naïveté, sometimes I forget how smart Les is. How much he’s like me when I was that age, only seven years ago. “I guess I am sad. Sad and angry and hating myself for getting everyone into this mess.” 

He looks up at me. “It’s not your fault though, Davey. Jack did what he did, and you did what you did.  _ You _ were the one who finally convinced Spot Conlon, and _ you _ were the one who organised the rally, and it was  _ Jack _ who came and messed it all up.” I look at him, seeing the raw hurt gleaming in his dark chocolate irises. How can someone so young see so much? I feel awful for dragging him into this, for getting him into a fight he has no place in and no way out of.

“I still feel bad for involving you in all of this, Les. You hurt your arm in the riot and it could have so much worse. I’m your big brother; I’m supposed to protect you, even when you don’t think you need me anymore.” 

I sigh, looking down at the darkness below us. My hands are clasped in my lap, and I feel a meagre warmth wrap itself around them. Les’ little hands are nestled in my larger ones, and he clutches me with all his might. 

“I  _ do _ need you, Davey. Even when I don’t look like I do, I do. I love you, and you’ve always been there, and I will  _ always _ need you.”

A tear slips down my cheek and I sniff, disentangling my hands from his to swipe my sleeve across my face. But it doesn’t matter anyway, because now I’m crying and I can’t stop, so I pull my knees up to my chest, rocking back and forth as I sob. Les is on his knees in an instant, hugging me fiercely, and I think he’s crying as well. We huddle there, sobbing out all the pain and hurt and fear and turmoil of the past few days until our tears dry and we are left silent and clinging to each other.

The night has turned cold, and I know that Mama will come looking for us soon, so I uncurl myself until I’m sitting normally again. Les’ face is flushed and blotchy, and mine probably is too. I hug him once more and pull myself to my feet, picking Les up like I used to when he was small. He lets me, snuggling closer, grateful for the warmth. I smile softly and pat his back. Then I climb through the window and walk quietly to our bedroom, pulling back the coverlet and setting him gently down on the mattress. I slip off his shoes, setting them under the bed, and then I go to the other side, slipping my own boots off and tucking them under my side of the bed. I settle under the thin summer blanket, still fully clothed but too tired to change or care what state I wake up in tomorrow. 

Les curls into me and I hug him close despite the summer heat. We fall asleep in moments, and for the first time in days I feel safe, knowing that tomorrow is another day, come what may.

**Author's Note:**

> Random unrelated note (this is a repeat from my A/N on Chap. 1 of Wind & Grass & Sky, btw): I have a songfic I'd like to post based on "Colors" by Halsey that I'm really excited about (It's got AU potential that I'd love to explore) but I was wondering if I can post it even if I end up using all the lyrics to the song. It's written as little tiny connected one-shots in between lines of the song, if that makes sense. 
> 
> Please let me know if this is okay (and if you'd like to read it!!) Comments are like good headlines-- they keep me going! 
> 
> Have a great day!  
> -Sparrow


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